Depths of Tartarus
by Complete Synch
Summary: They will not lose each other, not this time. This time it's together until the end because if her heart stops beating, then his heart stops beating.


**Warning - Spoilers for MoA**

* * *

**Depths of Tartarus**

_by Complete Synch_

They're dead. He's dead. She's dead. They both know it.

It's been far too long since the smokey tendrils of darkness reached out and swallowed them up. Since they were engulfed in shadows and he fastened his grip on her, afraid that the gloom would snatch her away.

Yet they keep falling. Death is inevitable.

The pit is fathomless and what waits at the bottom is not excruciating pain, broken bones or cracked skulls. It's death. Pure and simple.

The shred of hope he once clung onto has fluttered out of his grip and been cast off into Tartarus. They will not meet the others at the Doors of Death.

They will be dead. He feels a slight pang of guilt at deceiving them, giving them false hope.

It wasn't his intention, he blames the hopelessly naive part of him. The part that thought they could survive. Instead they will die.

Grim perhaps, but hurtling into the depths of Tartarus tends to dampens one's spirit. But that's okay, because they're together.

Dead or alive it doesn't matter. As long as he has her and she has him, nothing else matters. Not really.

Together they fall.

* * *

He's been falling for so long that the gut wrenching sensation has diminished to a small tickling in his stomach. Just how deep is this pit?

The wind is picking up, now a deafening roar assaulting his eardrums and he wonders if it's any indication that they are nearing the bottom.

The wind is bitter and sharp, whipping around him in a flurry and clawing his face raw. It seems to be tugging her away from him and he can feel the panic rising in his throat.

Then he feels her heartbeat. She's right there, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze because she can feel his heart racing. It still doesn't stop him from tightening his hold on her.

The position isn't the most comfortable - her right hand is interlaced with his left hand, wedged between their chests while their other hands wrap around one another - but it is comforting being able feel each other's heartbeat.

_Ba dum_ I'm here.

_Ba dum_ I'm here.

A constant reminder of each other's presence, and he'd give up a whole lot more than comfort to hear her heart beat.

To know that she's right there, because it's pitch black and he can't see a thing, can't see her and the thought of losing her scares him more than what lies below.

They will not lose each other, not this time. This time it's together until the end because if her heart stops beating, then his heart stops beating. So he concentrates on her heartbeat.

_Ba dum_ her heart goes.

_ Ba dum_ his heart goes.

Together their hearts beat.

* * *

He wonders if the darkness has slowly ebbed away or if his eyes have adjusted to dark that encases them.

Their foreheads are almost touching and he can just make out her stormy grey eyes. She blinks and he can see a slick sheen trickle down on her cheeks. She's crying. He wants to say something.

But he knows the turbulent winds would rip the words from his throat and hurl them deep into the abyss before he even opened his mouth.

Then he realizes his face is wet. Blinking, he feels a tear dribble down his face, then another. Tears. He's crying too.

Leaning in, he consults the map of her face he has committed to memory and makes an educated guess. He kisses her. It's short and sweet.

Nothing to let on that they are plummeting to their death. It's simply an _'I'm here'_ kiss and somehow it makes it so much more.

As he pulls away he can feel a smile tugging at her lips and the suddenly the tears aren't so bitter.

There's no need to speak. There's nothing to say. He's here. She's here.

Together they cry.

* * *

It grows colder each second and he's sure if they were still crying their tears would freeze on contact with the crisp air.

At least the wind has settled down to a dull rumble, though he's not sure which he prefers, being a demigod popsicle or having bleeding ears.

His internal debate is interrupted when a noise startles him. The noise only lasts for a few seconds and he's been enveloped in silence for so long that the noise is so foreign it takes double that to register that it's a voice.

"Guess I'll see you in Elysium."

The voice is quiet and soothing with an under tone of relief and it takes him another precious second for his brain to register that it's her. She's talking.

His mouth seems to have run ahead of his brain – not for the first time – because he's already blurted out a reply containing as much mirth he can muster.

"I'll race you there, Wise Girl."

The words hang in the air momentarily before the wind seizes them and greedily devours them. A muffled distorted chuckle is emitted mere centimeters from his face and informs him that she heard his delayed reply.

"Oh, you're on, Seaweed Brain."

Somehow he can hear her smiling and that's enough for his lips to twist up into the mischievous grin she finds endearing and the final knot of worry unravels.

He may not be known for his observation skill but he knows her so well that he caught the underlying message in their brief conversation, acceptance.

They've both come to terms with their imminent death. This is it, and maybe that's okay, because he's so tired of fighting battles that aren't his, being merely a pawn for the Gods to manipulate and he knows she feels the same.

They no longer have to hold the world on their shoulders literally and metaphorically and this clarity sends waves of relief coursing through him.

It seems selfish but at this point he doesn't really care. They have given enough, suffered enough, endured enough and they won't get their house in New Rome that he envisioned but Elysium isn't half bad either. As long as she's by his side.

Together they smile.

* * *

They may as well be skinny dipping in Antarctica because the frigid air penetrates every layer right down to the bone.

Freezing to death is taking the number one spot on his "Ways to Die" list. Locking his jaw to prevent it from chattering he pulls her closer, attempting to transfer the little body heat that remains.

"I love you."

This time her voice doesn't scare him. It's pure and gentle and it makes his pulse quicken and even thought the wind snatched the words from him he can still hear in echoing in his ears long after her crystallized breath as disappeared.

"I love you too."

His lips part and the words tumble out barely louder than a whisper but he can feel her heart beat accelerate as he presses his forehead against hers and stares into her eyes.

Taking comfort in each others presence they hurtle into Tartarus. That's all they need. Each other.

The Fates may have dealt him a bad hand but at least he has her. At least he has this moment because then there's a sickening crack and a dull thud.

Then nothing.

* * *

In the depths of Tartarus they lie in a crumpled heap, like discarded rag dolls, broken and limp, hands interlaced. Together until the very end.

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**RR HOW DARE YOU TEAR OUT MY HEART AND THROW IT INTO TARTARUS YOU CRUEL AUTHOR! I'm sure you've experienced your own inner turmoil at the ending of MoA. If House of Hades ends like that I might have to leave this fandom, it's bad for my health. **

**Anyway so I know there has been hundred of these but I decided to take the depressing route and kill them. Morbid I know but RR forced my hand and if he does kill them off... well there will be a riot. **

**Big thanks to everyone that reviewed or fav'd my previous fic ****You Have Two New**** Messages **** (inspired by SoN) there were a ton of you and I want to say thank you so much.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this (hopefully I haven't gotten too rusty) I may or may not have another fic from Annabeth's POV (she kicked arse in this) don't worry it won't be the same. **

**Please ****R/R and CC, it's much appreciated. Feel free to PM me if you want to cry about MoA together, tell me how amazing I am or anything PJO related.**

**~Synch~**


End file.
